Ether hissed as the Replicator consumed the new material on the plinths. Skeletons materialized within the chamber, flesh and skin slid over the bones, and two more Shield Slammers appeared inside the crystal vat.

I unlatched the door, and the two fresh homunculi stumbled out of the Replicator beside the one I’d created earlier. The sharp tang of alchemy touched the air as the machine cooled behind them.

All three of them were identical. Barrel-like chests heaved in fresh air. One started picking at his skin, seemingly surprised at what he felt; the others just stood there, looking around with unfocused eyes.

I turned to peek back outside. Rikard had vanished into the house, searching for illegal contraband. My uncle’s collection of odd artifacts would keep him busy for a few minutes.

The machine blinked and spat out two more sheets of parchment. This was the last thing it would be producing today.

“What are we going to do?” Alexia asked when the machine’s runes had stopped blinking.

I smiled at my newest creations. “We’re going to have a chat with Rikard.”

“The guardsman looks as if he came here for blood. Can’t we just hide in the cellar? Or take his horse and flee?”

“Rikard might look threatening, but he’s just hired muscle with a big sword. I’ll be damned if I let some thug just come waltzing onto my farm and break my shit. Besides, I want to see how these Slammers do against a real enemy.”

Alexia glanced at one of the homunculi, which was staring at the wall and drooling. “How are you going to make these creatures match this Rikard? Shouldn’t we perhaps take a weapon from here?”

“They’re all dull and badly made. The real weapons are in the small armory inside the manor. We’ll have to sneak in. We have the numbers; we just need to catch him by surprise.”

As the door creaked open, daylight filtered inside, making the Shield Slammers blink comically. Alexia shielded her eyes while her vision adjusted.

I slipped out of the shack and gestured for the others to follow me into the manor’s gardens. The naked Slammers shambled out while Alexia brought up the rear.

Trees and shrubbery stretched out in concentric rings around the house. A breeze whispered through the carefully cultivated garden beds, and leaves danced when it touched them. I knew most of these plants had alchemical uses, because I’d spent the better part of a decade trimming and clearing this garden for my uncle’s experiments. He wasn’t the type to idly fill his farm with pretty plants that had little use to him.

A silky branch brushed my shoulder as I led my small party into one of the garden’s wide corridors. The Slammers’ heavy feet thumped against the pavestones. I kept my head down. A Slammer grasped a branch and ripped it away from his heavy-browed face. A loud crack echoed through the courtyard.

I wheeled on the offending Slammer and glared at him. He stared back at me and blinked. The branch fell from his hand, and I recalled how Jamin had dealt with his creations in the past. They weren’t sentient—with the exception of Alexia—but they followed basic instructions at least.

“Don’t touch the plants,” I whispered. “Follow me, and be quiet.”

The Shield Slammers nodded in unison. We continued creeping through the garden until I caught sight of the back door of the manor house. The ringing, crashing sound of breaking glass and the bangs of heavy impacts echoed through the house. I fought to keep my irritation in check. No matter what dandy king he took orders from, Rikard didn’t have the authority to simply break into my manor house and destroy the collection of priceless artifacts my uncle had spent his whole life collecting.

I held up a fist to halt the progress of the homunculi and ducked down behind the cover of a wide, low hedge. One of themi imitated my movement and gave me a stupid grin of mismatched teeth, but didn’t stop walking.

“Halt here,” I muttered.

They obeyed. Alexia’s delicate hand brushed my arm as she crouched down beside me, peering past the twisted trunk of an acid-leaf tree. Her seductive scent washed over me as she leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“Where’s this armory you spoke of?”

“First floor on this side of the house. Rikard is taking his time searching the rooms. I’m sure he’s looking for Jamin. If he can’t find my uncle, then he’ll be looking for some proof to arrest him. He’s been in there for close to five minutes. My best guess is he’s probably on the second floor by now.”

Alexia shoved a Slammer’s hand off her shoulder. “You don’t sound much like a simple farming boy, Caleb.”

“You’re not the only one who’s spent time reading books.” I smirked. “Let’s move. Stay quiet and go straight for the back door.”

I went first and kept my eyes on the second-floor windows. There was no sign of Rikard, which meant that he was on the side of the house. Alexia matched my pace with a smooth stride that put her long legs and pale skin on display, attracting my eyes like bolts to one of the powerful magnets in the shack. The trio behind me stomped along but stayed in a half-crouched stance. Our path through the gardens gave us the concealment we needed, even if Rikard decided to look out the window.

The back entrance was unlocked. I pushed it open and thanked the Gods that I’d oiled the hinges a few days ago. My small party was inside a few moments later. One step closer to the weapons room. One step closer to fighting off the destructive bastard who had come looking for my uncle.

Rikard had made a serious mistake when he’d decided to break into this house. He was about to get a taste of what a man with a Replicator could do.

The manor house was almost unrecognizable. Broken glass and splintered wood covered the polished oak floorboards. Pottery, paintings, and carved artifacts lay scattered around. My uncle’s eccentric assortment of alchemical tools, assorted insects, and fully reassembled skeletons lay in pieces. Rikard was on the warpath, and he’d taken no prisoners.

I gritted my teeth as one of the Slammers cut its bare foot on the broken shards.

“Mind the glass,” I said to Alexia in an undertone.

She nodded and tiptoed around the jagged splinters as we moved through the kitchen. The fireplace crackled merrily and illuminated a tight space piled high with herbs, bread, and freshly made cheese. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I would have been reminded of the hours I’d spent preparing meals for my uncle. The crackling fire covered the sound of our footsteps as we pressed onward and I left the memories behind.

Alexia exhaled sharply when something crashed down heavily on the floor above us. Rikard had probably upended a bookcase. The idiot probably couldn’t even read. The sight of books must have intimidated him.

“I don’t like this,” Alexia whispered.

“Just keep moving,” I said reassuringly. “Stick to the plan.”

The kitchen opened up into a hallway. I moved quickly and pulled a key ring out from around my neck. Jamin knew better than to leave a room full of weapons unlocked, even if he wasn’t expecting visitors. He might have been a crazy old coot, but he was no idiot.

I found the key, unlocked the door, and ushered Alexia into the armory. “Follow her, and don’t touch anything,” I said to the Shield Slammers.

They bumped into each other as they filed into the room. Before following them in, I checked the hallway for any sign of Rikard. The sound of heavy boots and dark mumbling above me confirmed that he hadn’t finished destroying every decoration in the house.

He was about to get the surprise of his life.

Uncle Jamin’s armory was impressive for a man who farmed homunculi. The room was built like a vault. Simple spears sat in racks beside a collection of shields dangling from hooks driven into the thick stone walls. Four longbows and a large arbalest hung above barrels that bristled with arrows and bolts. A collection of basic daggers and short swords were arranged in neat horizontal rows above a low workbench to my right.

I pulled the thick door shut behind, shutting out Rikard’s stomping. He’d need a battering ram to get into the armory.

We were safe, at least temporarily.

I strode past the idle Slammers and pulled a heavy tower shield from the wall on the left. I handed it to a homunculus, who eagerly seized it.

Alexia quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” I said. “I’ve never fought with homunculi by my side before. Rikard’s got more training in swordcraft than I do, so we can’t afford to take the fight to him directly. But with the Slammers and a little ranged capability, we’ll have the upper hand.”

It took me no time to outfit the Shield Slammers with their shields. Pride stirred inside me as I admired the trio of naked, hairy creatures, each one carrying a tall, two-foot-wide shield designed for protection against a frontal attack. I recalled the stats the Replicator had spat out.

Their Shield Bash skill was my best bet to neutralize Rikard’s powerful sword.

I lifted the heavy arbalest from the back of the armory and grabbed quiver of bolts off the wall. I started fitting the sling around my waist, and as I moved to set down the crossbow, Alexia stepped forward. She dropped to her knees and tightened the belt with slim, nimble fingers, all the while flashing beguiling smiles up at me. When she had finished, the elf brushed her hair out of her eyes and sat back on her ankles, her other hand still lingering at my belt. She let her eyes drift down over my trousers and a certain appendage that throbbed at her sudden touch.

“That looks like a very heavy weapon you have there,” she said mischievously.

I winked at her and offered her a hand up. “Size matters if you’re looking to make an impact. And impact is what I’ll need if I want to get through Rikard’s armor.”

Her grin widened as she stood up and I lowered the crossbow to the floor. I tugged on the crank, and the steel limbs of the weapon slowly bent as the mechanism wound the string back. It took me a few seconds to properly prime the arbalest and slip a bolt into the catch.

I hefted the weapon over my shoulder and nodded to the wall of daggers. “You should take one.”

“I’ll be fine. I have you to protect me, after all.”

The twinkle in her eye told me she knew something I didn’t. She soon relented and took a thin dagger out of its sheath. My party was armed; we were ready to take the fight to the plunderer upstairs. I opened the door and turned to the Shield Slammers. One was chewing on the edge of his shield, but paused when I spoke.

“You take the lead. Spread out and fill the hallway.”

I followed them out, Alexia pulled the door closed behind us, and we set off down the hallway toward the stairs.

The stairs creaking under steel-reinforced boots above us heralded Rikard’s arrival on the first floor. The manor had five floors in total, so something must have drawn his attention to make him return before visiting the top floors.

Alexia followed me as I ducked around a corner. The Slammers paused. Before I could formulate the order verbally, the leader started moving forward.

Was it possible that I could command my creations with just a thought?

It certainly seemed that way. Uncle Jamin had never told me a mental link existed between homunculi and their owners. He always loved keeping secrets.

“Go to the stairs and draw Rikard out into the hallway,” I ordered.

Then I redirected my thoughts to the other two Slammers in quick succession.

“Pull back to us and block off the hallway.”

They reacted instantly. My verbal commands must have been too clumsy before, and difficult for their minds to comprehend. This new mental link worked far better. They didn’t bump into each other even once as they followed my commands.

The lead Slammer stomped out to the base of the stairs. I heard Rikard laugh.

“Oh, so now you decide to show yourself, Jamin!” the guardsman cackled from around the corner.

The lead Slammer opened his mouth. “Who Jamin?” he asked thickly.

“And you sent naked man-children to talk to me. How quaint.”

The other Slammers followed my orders and backed away. They turned their tower shields sideways and created a slanting wall that blocked the corridor.

Rikard appeared around the corner a moment later. I positioned my arm on the wall and lifted my crossbow over it to give myself a steady platform to shoot from. But I couldn’t get an angle from here.

“Come on, then!” Rikard shouted.

The lead homunculus raised his shield to fend off a series of devastating attacks. The guardsman grinned as he lifted his huge blade and swung it down again and again. The tower shield trembled under the strikes.

Rikard suddenly kicked the shield aside with a smirk and then sliced through the unarmored body of the Shield Slammer. Blood and gore splattered the walls of the corridor as the top half of the homunculus bounced off the wall, sailed over the heads of the other two Slammers, and landed a few feet away from me. Scarlet pooled instantly around the truncated half-corpse.

I adjusted my aim and saw Alexia touch the blood on the floor delicately with her right forefinger. She licked her finger and moaned softly. I ignored her and sent another order to my remaining Shield Slammers.

“Shield Bash him together. Rush in and pin him against the wall.”

They surged forward as one.

I stepped out into the hallway and took aim just as my homunculi crashed into Rikard. He couldn’t raise his sword in time. Two heavy tower shields smashed into him like one big charging bull. The air blasted from his lungs, and he lost his grip on his sword. The Slammers shoved relentlessly onward as they heeded my mental command and pinned him into the far wall.

I kept my iron sights levelled on Rikard’s exposed face as he struggled to free himself. My Shield Slammers had done their jobs perfectly. The weight of the guardsman’s armor, the loss of his sword, and the pure concussive force of the Shield Bash had bypassed all of his swordplay skills, as well as his natural affinity for one-on-one combat.

“Fuck your mother, you bastard son of a country-bred whore!” Rikard spat.

I didn’t reply, but strolled over to meet him.

“You have any idea who you’re messing with, sheep-screwer? Bring me Jamin, and bring him right fucking now! He owes me! You all owe me!”

I halted three yards away from him. “What exactly do you want with Jamin?”

“I said it already, you fuckwit. He owes us. He made a deal with Longhorn Martyn, and I’m here to collect what is due.”

I’d never met the man, but Jamin had told me that Longhorn had half the town guard in his pocket, and the other half scared shitless. People spoke his name in terrified whispers and paid him protection money just to run a business in Roarwind.

Rikard snarled as my Shield Slammers increased the pressure. He spat at me, a commendable effort, but I leaned a little to the right and easily avoided the helpless projectile.

“What deal?” I asked.

“Where is Jamin?”

“Answer the question. What does Jamin owe Longhorn Martyn?”

Rikard’s eyes bulged as he tried to free himself. He had my homunculi straining. But all the weight of their heavy bodies and the hard edges of their shields had Rikard firmly pinned, and he knew it.

I curled my hands around the trigger of the arbalest. “Answer me.”

“A blood mage homunculus,” Rikard finally said. “He owes Longhorn a goddamn mage.”

Jamin hadn’t said anything about a debt. Rikard’s presence was evidence enough that my uncle hadn’t left me the farm out of pure altruism. A companion farmer wasn’t likely to make a lot of friends in such a competitive market. I wondered if Jamin had left just to avoid confrontation with Longhorn and his lackeys.

It didn’t matter. He was gone, and this was my farm now.

“Longhorn is a scum-sucking piece of shit,” I replied. “Why does an upstanding citizen like yourself work for a ruffian like him?”

“I do whatever’s necessary for coin. And don’t try to tell me Jamin’s not the same. Or he should be. Anyone with half a brain knows that Longhorn runs Roarwind single-handed, not the Baron.”

My options were limited. Jamin had never made a blood mage—at least not to my knowledge—and even if he had, I sure as hell wasn’t about to just hand it over to a goon like Rikard. He had torn through the manor house like a storm. It would take a lifetime to rebuild his collections, and I knew for a fact that some of my uncle’s old items were irreplaceable. Rikard had been a plague to the farm for months now, and the easiest thing to do was fire a bolt through his skull and feed his corpse to the incinerator.

“Jamin left,” I said. “I’m in charge of the farm now.”

I stepped closer to him, flaunting the arbalest still aimed at his face. The eyes in his color-drained face flickered past me to the corridor.

My fingers tightened around the trigger.

Suddenly, a glowing orb of raw power shot past my head and collided with Rikard’s face. Flecks of bone and charred brains showered my Shield Slammers. Rikard’s truncated corpse collapsed, and the homunculi stumbled forward. Their shields bounced off the thick stone wall.

I spun around to look for where the magical sphere had come from.

Alexia lowered her hand and beamed at me. A glistening orb of scarlet energy crackled in her blood-soaked palm. Red tendrils wrapped themselves around the pale skin of her arm and throbbed in a heart-like rhythm. I lowered the crossbow as she laughed out loud in delight.

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Alexia said. “Your uncle created me as a blood mage elf. Rikard and this Longhorn creature must be looking for me.”

I shook my head as I considered the information. It made sense now. Jamin had done exactly what Longhorn had asked, and the old man had kept me away from the result to ensure that his secret was safe. My uncle had simply been playing for time while he worked on other projects and taught me how to use the Replicator and find ingredients for recipes. The heat from Longhorn and Rikard was too much for my uncle. That’s why he’d left me his companion farm, the incinerator, and his beautiful blood mage.

I wondered what other secrets he’d kept stashed away on the farm.

And what other kind of homunculi I could create with the Replicator.

I was about to find out. I turned back to Rikard’s corpse and the other homunculi.

“You two,” I said, picking Rikard’s sword up off the floor. “Use this. Cut off his fingers.” I paused for a moment as I remembered some of the other recipes I’d studied, ones Uncle Jamin thought I’d never seen. “Actually, remove his head, too. Then meet me at the Replicator.”